


Come What May

by DGCatAniSiri



Series: James Vega Romance [7]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 13:46:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DGCatAniSiri/pseuds/DGCatAniSiri
Summary: James has been recovering physically from his injury. Emotionally... may be a different story.





	Come What May

James appreciated the surprise of the rounds in the simulator, though Shepard did follow Doctor Chakwas’s advice of a limit of how many rounds they’d go through. Just getting able to get back into his armor and blowing holographic Cerberus opponents seemed to do great things for James’s mood. Shepard had given them a handicap all the same, given the threat of Doctor Chakwas’s wrath. Still, it was obvious that James appreciated the chance to slap on the armor and kick some ass, even if it was simulated.

“I still got it,” James grinned as he and Shepard emerged from the simulator. “Next time we face that bastard Kai Leng, I got a bullet just for him.”

Shepard bit back a comment on that – he understood exactly where James was coming from, but he had little desire or inclination to put James back in the line of fire. Granted, he couldn’t exactly justify leaving him behind during a fight, that James would, if he had to wrestle any of the rest of the squad, be there when the rematch came, but he couldn’t be blamed for wanting to keep the man he loved out of the line of fire, especially while he was still recovering. So he kept quiet. 

As they stripped out of their armor, to be shipped back to the Normandy in short order – they could really only afford a day or two of leave, strict rotations, it was only the ground team who got confirmed Citadel time every time they returned, given their heightened stress and et cetera medical jargon – Shepard couldn’t help but look at James’s bare torso, where the new scar on his abdomen stood out against all that tanned flesh. 

When it came time, Shepard was going to enjoy killing Kai Leng. And if that thought made him a bad person, he really didn’t care. 

They returned to the apartment, planning on having a night in. Though they weren’t ordering from the same pizza place that James had used before – they didn’t appreciate any burned pepperoni. 

As much as they’d been enjoying themselves on leave, though, Shepard could see a shift in James’s body language as he looked around the apartment. 

“James?” Shepard asked, surprised at the sudden change.

“I said once that the Citadel was... not right. You remember?”

“I do.” It had been after the meeting with the Council, the first one, right after Mars, when they’d revealed the blueprints that would become the Crucible. Shepard had found him after it, and been struck by how aware he was of the problems of the Citadel. It hadn’t been the first time that James had shown an insight, a wisdom, beyond his years, but it had been the time that convinced Shepard that he deserved a place on his crew, opened him up to the possibility that there might be something more between them.

“It feels like that all over again. I mean... We’re here, using a combat simulator for fun, coming to this safe apartment... while Thessia, Palaven, Earth... the Repears are there. They’re not some thought exercise, they’re real. They’re killing people. And we’re... here, playing like everything’s all normal.”

Shepard had certainly had that thought on his own, plenty of times. There was always that voice in the back of his head, telling him that any downtime he took was at the detriment of the war effort. It was a constant reminder, a perpetual thorn in his side. He was a soldier, there were people suffering, and he could make a difference. He fully understood that it was impossible to give himself to the war 100% of the time, but there was always a feeling of guilt when he didn’t.

“This is part of your recovery, James. You were injured.”

“You weren’t.” Before Shepard could point out that he might as well have been, or that he was medically responsible for James not straining himself too far and hindering that recovery, he continued. “And I know. We can’t give a hundred percent all the time. But... I mean, I saw the fires raging on Thessia. I know what they’re doing to all those people. And instead of helping them, I’m... I’m stuck here. I’m enjoying myself. It’s... it’s not right.”

Sighing, Shepard moved to sit on the couch, motioning for James to sit down next to him. He was pleased the other man actually did so, that his sudden melancholy wasn’t completely dragging him down. Shepard wrapped a comforting arm around him. “James... I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but all of us fighting this war feel like that. We all feel like we should be doing more. But you’re only going to make it worse to do that duty by focusing on it. You can’t make yourself sick out of the concern that you’re not doing enough.”

That earned him a chuckle from James. “Practice what you preach, Loco. I know you’re not much better at this than me.”

True enough – Shepard had lost nights to paperwork, as much as he tried to follow the idea that he couldn’t bear the burden of the whole damn galaxy weighing him down. It wasn’t easy, though Shepard tried to remind himself that it was worth it. Just living for the rest of the galaxy would easily lead to burn out right now. 

“We’re all out of our depth right now, you know?” Shepard said. “Fighting the Reapers is a full time job. But that just makes it all the more important that we take time for ourselves, remember why we’re fighting.”

“Yeah? So what are you fighting for, Loco? Not the galaxy, or the Citadel. That’s what you say out there. Tell me. What’s keeping you fighting?”

Shepard could have gone with the big motivational speech about duty, honor, responsibility, blah blah blah. But that wasn’t what this conversation was for. James needed comfort, not a recruitment speech. And it wasn’t like he was being recruited in the first place.

“Mordin said something to me once, before we went through the Omega-4 Relay. He’d made an effort to contact one of his nephews. He knew that our mission could have been a death sentence for us all, and he... wanted to give himself a reason to do it. He said that he couldn’t anthropomorphize the galaxy, but he could think of his favorite nephew.” He almost expected James to offer a smart remark – “You got a nephew somewhere you haven’t mentioned, Loco?” – but the other man was silent, seeming to understand that this wasn’t something that Shepard was just sharing for the hell of it. “That’s what I do,” Shepard continued. “I think about my friends... the family I’ve made out of the Normandy crew... and that’s why I keep fighting.”

There was a long stretch of silence, and, despite himself, Shepard abruptly began to feel himself begin to drift off, the exhaustion of having been so concerned about James over the last few days, plus the general war effort, catching up with him. 

Then James spoke up again. “How about the future?”

“Hm?”

“You ever... think about what you’ll do after the war? When the Reapers are gone?”

If he was honest... Shepard hadn’t. He couldn’t think about a world where the Reapers were gone. If he was really honest... He’d probably always assumed that he wouldn’t make it through the final battle. This fight had become his life, and it seemed likely that, in the end, it would take that particular sacrifice to put an end to it. 

Shepard didn’t particularly like the idea of saying as much out loud, though, not wanting to encourage the idea that the war couldn’t be won, especially considering how James clearly seemed to feel about things at the moment. “Not really. I suppose it makes me a hypocrite, but... It is hard to do that. To look at things and think about what they’ll be like... after.” The concept of an ‘after’ was one of the hardest things for Shepard to wrap his head around.

“I know what you mean. I know it should be what I’m fighting for, but... All I keep coming back to is that this war... I mean, how do you go back to normal after it?”

There was an undercurrent to his question – James had the same doubts of their chances of survival that Shepard did. 

A man convinced he’ll die tomorrow has a tendency to ensure that it happens. Anderson had said that once, when Shepard had turned himself in. It had been his idea of a pep talk before the first committee meeting, the first discussion of what the Alliance was going to do with the disgraced Commander Shepard. It had been his way of telling Shepard to go into that meeting not as a man condemned to die but as a man determined to find a way to survive. Shepard had kept that in mind as the war had gone on.

Seeing the slump in James’s body, how much he wasn’t sure if he would – maybe even should – survive, the words echoed once again. 

Shepard pulled James into a kiss, feeling a surge of relief when James responded – he at least wasn’t completely gone down the path of self-destruction. There was an option to walk back from that point.

Despite it all, James still wanted a reason to live. He just couldn’t find one right now on his own.

But that was why he had Shepard there beside him. 

They rested their foreheads against one another, savoring the sensation of being here, with the man they loved. “James?” Shepard asked softly.

“Yeah?”

“Whatever future we have, that we fight for... I want it to be one with you.” Whatever else, he knew that if there was a place he belonged, it was with James Vega beside him. 

It got him a genuine smile from James. He’d certainly take it. “That’s what I want too... John.”

The Reapers still darkened the horizon, but Shepard still only saw James’s face in his future.


End file.
